


Amor Incantamentum

by aeneapsych



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeneapsych/pseuds/aeneapsych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve been watching you,” the witch continued, monologuing her heart out, like some cheesy paranormal romance villain.  “And out of everyone in your stupid little pack, you two are my favorite.  Wanna know why?” </p><p>Stiles and Derek get cursed by a bored witch threatening Beacon Hills.  Sex-Pollen/Magic made them do it - i.e. my favorite trope!  Couldn't help it, a little fluff got in there too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Incantamentum

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic!! This started out as an exercise in smut writing in the middle of writing a pretty long AU. And it ended up being a bit bigger than I first expected. Not really beta'ed, will have to come back at a later date and do it!
> 
> Thanks to Jen and Anna, for being my smut reading friends, and helping convince me to try this out :D

So, apparently, witches were actually a thing. And one happened to stroll her wicked ass into Beacon Hills, and start some shit last week. Deaton, being the usual cryptic asshole he always is, told Stiles to “be the spark”, again. He gave Stiles another strange powder in one of his little Celtic-symbol salt shakers, and shoved him out the door.

Derek was waiting by his Camaro, leaning up against the driver’s side door, looking pissed off as per-fucking-usual. He was yelling at someone on the phone. Scott, probably. Ever since he returned home after taking off with Cora several months ago, the two werewolves were working together, sort of. Derek seemed content to basically let Scott run the place, and step in when needed. To be honest, it made Derek less of an uptight asshole. Stiles thought that it was probably better for everyone that Derek was no longer an alpha, especially for Derek himself.

“So, Deaton was his usual vaguely helpful self,” Stiles informed Derek as hung up with Scott. 

“What did he give you?” Derek asked as he straightened up from his slouch against the car.

Stiles shook the small bottle, and gave Derek a manic grin. 

The typical patented Hale eye roll followed. “More powdered shit? Is that his plan for everything?”

“Well, that or convincing teenagers to kill themselves,” Stiles replied, flailing his arms in the air for emphasis. “And, sorry, but if it’s up to me, then I’d rather throw powdery substances at every monster of the week for the rest of my freakin’ life than go in one of those death tubs again. Fuck you very much.”

Derek cringed, and opened his mouth, probably to apologize for the millionth time. 

“Don’t,” Stiles said before Derek could even start, and pushed on the werewolf’s annoyingly muscled chest. “I’m tired of you apologizing for something that was not your fault. We chose to do that to save our parents. You didn’t kidnap them. I’m sick and fucking tired of rehashing this every single time one of us mentions it.” 

“Yes, but I was the one who…” Derek tried, but again, Stiles was just not going to start this argument again. It was bad enough with the constant anxiety and depression after they did the ritual, not to mention the creepy ass nightmares he was having. Derek was starting to become an actual real friend to Stiles now, since he seemed to be crawling out of whatever pity pit he had dug for himself since Stiles first met him. And with Scott busy tending to his new flock, Derek was really the only one who was just as lonely as Stiles was. So the last thing he needed was his new buddy flogging himself over his past mistakes. Although it was pretty sad when Stiles was depending on Derek Hale to be the positive one in a friendship.

“No more!” Stiles yelled, opening the passenger door. “Get in the car so we can go kill this bitch. I’m starving and after we get rid of her, you are taking me to get food. Like terrible, greasy, artery-clogging food. Understood?”

Again, another eye roll. But thankfully he opened his own door, and sank into the driver’s seat. Finally.

Stiles climbed in, dropped the bottle of magic powder, and somehow got himself tangled in the seat belt. Chuckling, Derek pulled out of the parking lot in front of Deaton’s office, heading downtown. 

~~~~

The rundown, late twentieth century apartment complex was not where Stiles would have thought an uber powerful witch would be shacking up, but this was the address Lydia had texted over earlier. And if there was one constant in Stiles’ life, it was that Lydia would kill him if he disobeyed her instructions. Which were really just thinly veiled orders.

“Ok, I’ll subdue her, and you throw the powder. Should be simple enough.” Derek took the keys out of the ignition and stripped out of his jacket, throwing it in the back seat. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? When has anything ever been that simple, dude?”

“I have asked you before to not call me that, Stiles.” One of Derek’s classic grumpy faces started to form. Ah, nostalgia.

“Ok, then, Fido, I think we need a couple back-up plans just in case.” Stiles made sure to plaster his best shit-eating grin on his face, just to help really sink the message home. It really said something for their relationship development that Derek didn’t slam Stiles’ head into the dashboard.

“How about we just call that a general outline then?” Derek replied, eyes shut nostrils flaring. “I’m sure once we get in there it will get fleshed out more, ok?”

Stiles sighed, and opened his door, grabbing the bottle from the cup holder between the seats. “Fine. But you do all the fighty stuff, so I can do my flingy stuff.” He didn’t need werewolf hearing to catch the imaginative curses Derek was throwing at him as he shut the door.

They walked up to the nearest stairwell and climbed to the third floor. Stopping in front of 3F, Stiles turned to Derek, adrenaline beginning to pump through him, giving him a strange buzzy feeling. “Ready?”

Derek’s eyes turned electric blue, and he grinned, fangs sharp, wet with saliva. That really shouldn’t be that hot. Stiles blamed the adrenaline.

Stiles raised his hand to knock on the door, but instead Derek’s foot just kicked it open. Which, rude. Now she was really going to be mad. They ran into the apartment. The lights were off, and several candles were burning on a small wooden table in the center of the room. The temperature was stifling, and Stiles immediately started to sweat. A warm gust of air swept through the room, slamming the door behind them and extinguishing the candles. Stiles felt Derek move in front of him, pressing him backwards. A deep growl sounded, shaking the ugly brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Before either of them could make another move, Stiles was lifted off his feet, and flung sideways. The breath was knocked out of him as he connected with the wall. Instead of falling to the floor, his body was held aloft, by some invisible hand. From the pained grunts to his left, he guessed Derek had suffered the same fate.

The candles re-ignited, and the witch walked into the room. She was actually pretty normal looking. Stiles had really hoped she would look more, you know, witchy. Plain brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail, black yoga pants and a sweatshirt with “Stanford” written on the front.

Stiles had fortunately regained enough air back in his lungs to comment, “Huh, didn’t realize they taught magic at Stanford. Or is it like a front for the American version of Hogwarts?”

Derek mumbled something along the lines of, Shut up, Stiles, and the witch just crossed her arms, looking bored.

“You know, with all the warnings my family always gave me about werewolves, you lot are pretty fucking stupid.” She turned around and walked over to a small trunk in the corner of the room. She bent over and opened the ornate lid, and shuffled the contents around, looking for something to kill them both with, probably.

“I’ve been watching you,” the witch continued, monologuing her heart out, like some cheesy paranormal romance villain. “And out of everyone in your stupid little pack, you two are my favorite. Wanna know why?” She straightened back up, holding what looked like a couple of raggedy dolls in each hand.

“Please enlighten us, Hermione,” Stiles laughed; the Harry Potter jokes just wrote themselves, honestly. 

The witch just sighed and looked at Derek. “I’m not sure how you put up with him. It must be exhausting. And I’m sorry, but it’s about to get worse.” She smiled sweetly, and smashed the dolls together, rubbing them back and forth like some sort of deranged toddler.

“Hey, she’s trying to make her Barbie dolls have sex. I used to do that,” Stiles said. His cousin on his mom’s side used to let him play with some of her older Barbies when they would come for the holidays. She would always run crying to her parents after he started bending their legs into weird positions. Stiles didn’t really like her.

Derek just stared at him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, whatever, you had two sisters. Do not even try to convince me you were never at least forced to play Barbies with them. That is like a brotherly requirement.”

“Oh, goddess, would you two just shut up?” The witch yelled, so obviously done with their shit. The dolls suddenly burst into flames, plastic melting. An acrid stench hit Stiles’ nose, burnt plastic and hair. Derek started choking, and for once Stiles didn’t envy super werewolf sniffers.

The the candles went out again, and Stiles fell from his supernatural hold against the wall, landing in a painful pile of limbs. 

“Fuck… warn a guy!” Stiles yelled at the witch, rubbing his shoulder. He had delicate skin and that was going to bruise something awesome tomorrow. He felt Derek step over his body, silently thanking werewolf infrared eyesight, or whatever, because a heel to the kidney right now would just be the icing on the cake. Derek was in the middle of trying to disentangle Stiles’ wayward limbs and help him off the floor when the candles lit up, again.

“Wow, not sure she knows many others spells than that candle one,” Stiles murmured, shoving Derek’s hands off him as he got his bearings back. He looked around the room, not finding the witch. “Where did she go now?”

Derek grabbed Stiles by the bicep and started dragging him to the front door. “I don’t know but we aren’t waiting around to find out.”

They raced out the door and down the hallway to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, Stiles huffed, “Do you think she did some sort of creepy voodoo doll spell on us with those things?”

“Voodoo is completely different from witch magic. But yes, I have a feeling she did something to us in there”. Derek leapt down the last eight or nine steps, of course he did, and Stiles tried not to stumble on the last one trying to catch up. They both sprinted to the Camaro, Derek clicking the locks open in time for Stiles to slam into the door and wrench open the handle.

~~~~

“The dolls caught on fire?” Deaton asked, sounding a bit panicked. 

“Yes, and then the lights went out again, and then we fell off the wall, and when the lights came back on, she was gone. So we ran the fuck out of there.” This was, like, the fiftieth time Stiles had explained this part to the ex-emissary, and it was getting a little annoying.

“And have either of you felt anything…” Deaton hesitated, “Odd?”

Derek looked over at Stiles and shook his head. 

“No, but I landed on my shoulder and I’m probably gonna have a humongous bruise…” Stiles complained. 

“Well, call me if anything does. I’m not terribly familiar with that type of magic, so she could have just been faking a spell to scare you off.” The vet said his goodbyes and hung up.

“As usual, not very helpful, that Deaton.” Stiles locked his phone and slid it into his pocket, slamming his head back against the headrest. “What do we do now? How are we supposed to take her out with the magic powder stuff if we can’t even get close enough to touch her?”

Derek lifted his arm and gripped Stiles’ left shoulder. The dull ache that had been throbbing ever since he hit the ground in the apartment started to fade. Stiles looked down at Derek’s arm, watching the blackness snake up the veins towards Derek’s body.

“Thanks, Derek.” Stiles smiled and patted the werewolf’s thigh. Wow, Derek had like, nice thighs. Super muscled, and strong. If he wrapped those thighs around Stiles’s neck while he was giving him a blowjob, would he squeeze him until he passed out?

What the fuck. Stiles pulled his hand off Derek’s leg. And while Stiles sat there, feeling an uncomfortable heat crawl up his cheeks, Derek’s hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck. Only this time there wasn’t any pain to leech, just Derek’s thumb massaging circles into the base of his skull.

A groan slipped out of Stiles’ mouth. “Ugh, massages are awesome, thanks, but just my shoulder hurt. My neck’s fine.” As embarrassed as he was, Stiles couldn’t help leaning back into Derek’s hand. The back of his neck was like a super sweet spot, and his pants were getting tight. Ok, this was officially weird.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted. The hand of the back of his neck clamped on tightly, and started to push forward. “We need to get to my place, fast. I think I know what her spell did.”

Stiles turned his head to see Derek palming himself roughly with his left hand, steering the car with his knees. He glanced up at his face and saw Derek’s fangs extended, pressing indents into his lower lip. Fuck, that was the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen.

“So when I was joking about her making the dolls have sex, I was actually right? And they were supposed to be us?” Stiles’ voice broke at the end of his question, his gaze bouncing between Derek’s fangs and his hand rubbing his erection through his jeans. “Oh my god, it’s sex pollen. I’ve read about that online. Shit, does this mean we are going to have to fuck each other until it wears off?” If that was the case, Stiles was so on board with this. Really on board. Like, maybe they should hire the witch to do this on a regular basis.

Derek laughed and moaned at the same time. “You’re 17, Stiles.”

“So?” Stiles shouted. “I’m legal in some states. Not sure if California is one of those, but whatever. I’m more mature than most of those assholes that are having underage sex.”

Stiles squirmed in his seat, wanting Derek to touch him somewhere other than his neck. Preferably in his pants. 

“Your father’s the Sheriff!” Derek gasped out, unbuckling his seat belt and then unbuttoning his fly. 

“I’m not going to tell him!” Stiles responded, fumbling at his own jeans. “Just pull over. Now!”

Derek looked in his rearview mirror, and then off to the right. He put both hands back on the wheel and swerved the car to the right. Stiles silently thanked his own good judgement at not removing his own seat belt and he lurched forward, hands flying out to the dashboard.

Derek pulled the car into the parking lot of a closed strip mall. All of the street lamps had burned out long ago, so the only light in the car was from the main street. 

Plastic cracked, and Stiles looked over to find Derek squeezing the steering wheel, eyes bright blue and fangs out, breathing heavily. “Just because we’re under a spell, doesn’t mean I don’t want your consent. Tell me you’re ok with this, and if you’re not, we will drive to Deaton’s and see if he can’t find something to stop this.”

“My mind is totally clear, Derek. As far as I can tell, this is just a physical reaction. I give consent. Now, please, do something, I feel like I’m dying.” Stiles was still leaning over the dashboard, palms pressing into the leather and plastic. Derek stayed where he was, plastic still creaking as Derek continued to squeeze the life out of his steering wheel. “It’s not exactly a hardship, either, you know. I’m not blind, and I’m a horny teenager. You’re fucking hot.”

Derek grabbed Stiles arm and pulled him over the central console, cupping his other hand around Stiles’ neck and kissed him. It was rough and wet, Derek’s beard rubbing into Stiles’ tender skin on his chin and cheeks. Trying to catch himself so he didn’t just tip face first into Derek’s lap, Stiles pressed one hand along Derek’s side, fingers feeling his ribs and the muscles twisting as Derek moved them to get into a more comfortable position. He fisted his other hand into Derek’s hair, moving his head to a better angle so he could slide his tongue into Derek’s mouth. He licked inside of the wet heat, finding Derek’s tongue and massaging it with his own.  
A fang pierced his lip and he startled, pulling back. Derek chased the drop of blood trailing down his chin with his tongue and moved back to Stiles’s mouth, tasting of iron. Stiles groaned, and leaned closer, pressing his chest into Derek’s. 

In between soft brushes of lips and deep swipes of their tongues, Derek breathed out, “Tell me what you want, Stiles.”

Stiles hesitated, “I... I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you like, what gets you off.” Derek spoke into his ear, dipping down to pull Stiles’ earlobe into his mouth, blunt human teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

Oh, this was so awkward. “I wouldn’t know,” he began, shivering as Derek mouthed open sloppy kisses down the side of his throat. “I mean, I know what I think about when I’m jerking off, but…” This was probably the worst way ever to have to admit Stiles was still a virgin. 

Derek pushed Stiles back, his mouth a perfect circle in his shock. “You’re…?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned, “No, I’ve never been with anyone else, ok? Believe me, this is not exactly the way I expected my first time to go down, but I am certainly not complaining. Now shut up and keep kissing me.” He wrapped both arms around Derek’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Derek’s stupid werewolf strength made that basically impossible.

“No, we’re going to Deaton’s and he’ll figure this out. This is ridiculous. I’m not going to allow your first time to be under dubious consent.” Derek twisted in his seat and pushed Stiles back to his.

“Fuck you, Derek! I told you I gave you my consent, I am perfectly lucid right now. This may not be the perfect situation to do this, I probably would have at least wanted you to take me out to dinner and a movie or something first.” Stiles grabbed his sleeve and pulled, trying to get Derek to focus on his face. “Look at me, asshole. Do you want this? Have you ever wanted this? With me?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” Derek replied.

“It does to me. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t think you had at least some attraction to me. I’m not stupid. You think I don’t notice how you look at me sometimes? I want to hear you say it. That’s all I need.” Stiles heart raced, his breath coming out in shallow pants. “Let me know all of these moments between us for so long haven’t been in my head.”

“They’re not in your head. I was just never sure,” Derek answered, looking lost. 

Stiles nodded, cheeks flushing with excitement and arousal. “Good. Good, fuck, that’s good.” He laughed, smiling at Derek, who returned it with his own. 

“Well since you aren’t sure what you like, tell me what you think about,” Derek responded, pulling Stiles close again, foreheads touching. Their breaths mixed together, Derek’s lips brushing over Stiles’, barely touching. “What do you imagine me doing to you when you touch yourself?”

“Ah, shit,” Stiles gasped, running his mouth down to Derek’s chin, scraping his teeth over the soft bristles. “Everything. So many fucking things.” Images flew through Stiles’ mind, lightning quick, overstimulating him.

“Tell me one thing, and we’ll start from there.” Derek bared his throat, allowing Stiles to lick a long wet stripe from the hollow of his collarbone to underneath his ear. Stiles felt a soft growl vibrate in Derek’s throat, and flicked his eyes up to see Derek’s fangs descend. 

“I want to fuck your mouth.” Stiles said, pulling back slightly, to see Derek’s reaction. 

Derek closed his eyes and nodded, swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Stiles shifted back into his seat, nerves making his arms shake. Breathing through his mouth, he watched Derek shift so he was laid over the central console. 

“No fangs,” Stiles said. “As much as I liked you accidentally chewing on my lip before, I do not want you chomping down on my dick, ok?”

Derek finished unzipping Stiles khakis, mumbling, “Shut up, Stiles,” before wrapping his lips around Stiles cock, and sliding all the way down. He stopped once Stiles could feel himself hit the back of Derek’s throat.

Stiles arched his back, one hand reaching out to anchor himself against the window, the other threading into Derek’s hair. He let out a long, drawn out curse as Derek swallowed reflexively, throat muscles contracting around the head of Stiles’ dick. Derek raised his head up, cheeks hollowed as he sucked, swirling his tongue around the head once he reached the tip.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Stiles panted out, eyes rolling back into his head. 

Derek chuckled, and grabbed Stiles hand that was pressed against the window, smudging the pristine glass. “I went to college for a couple of years after we left Beacon Hills.” He took Stiles’ hand and placed it on top of his hand to join the other, and looked up at him from under his lashes, tongue extended.

“Shit,” Stiles whispered. “Tell me if it’s too much, ok?”

Derek nodded, rubbing the flat of his tongue along the slit, catching a drop of pre-come.  
Stiles guided himself in, rubbing first against Derek’s tongue, past his lips, then into his wet, hot mouth, pressing into the roof, sinking into the pliant opening of his throat. He let out the breath he had been holding, and caressed Derek’s scalp, fingers weaving through the soft hair. He slid back out, quicker this time, relaxing his hips into the seat, eyes never leaving Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes were bright Beta blue, but his teeth were dull and flat. A knot released in Stiles’ stomach, and he pressed upwards again, even quicker this time. Derek moaned around Stiles’ cock, sending vibrations along his skin, feeling it crawl up his spine. Stiles moved his hands, one to cup the side of Derek’s face, for stability; the other he wrapped around Derek’s neck. As he moved in and out of Derek’s mouth, he pressed his fingers against his throat, feeling himself each time he bottomed out. He sped up, transfixed by the way Derek’s lips dragged against the heated skin of his dick, saliva dripping out of his mouth, falling onto Stiles’ pants, soaking them. 

“Derek, this isn’t going to take very long,” Stiles moaned. He picked up his pace, and Derek was starting to make soft choking noises. A shot of pleasure ran up his spine, and he threw his head back. “If you don’t want me to come down your throat, you better sit up right now.” Derek stayed right where he was, and Stiles groaned, hips stuttering as he pressed himself as far as Derek’s throat would allow. His orgasm shot through him, violently, his vision spotting and rough moans spilling out of his mouth. In his haze, he could feel Derek shift positions next to him. He opened his eyes to watch Derek straddle the console, one knee on either seat. Derek grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck, and pulled him forward, hand pulling his own cock out of his briefs. A few rough strokes, and Derek was coming on Stiles’ face. He flinched as the hot liquid hit near his eye, feeling more land on his neck. Derek leaned over, and covered Stiles’ mouth in a filthy kiss, moving to his cheeks and his neck, then returning to his mouth, tasting of both of them. 

Derek lifted his knee and turned, collapsing back into his seat. Stiles felt boneless, breathing heavy and deep, a warmness pooling in his belly. He turned his head, and found Derek staring at him, with a huge smile on his face. Stiles had never seen that expression before. He looked… gorgeous. Like sunlight. Stiles found Derek’s hand and squeezed it. 

“So, that went well,” Stiles remarked, laughing at the absurdity of the moment. What started as a normal evening for the two of them, had ended up as so much more. 

Their moment was cut short though, as Stiles doubled over in pain.

“Stiles!” Derek exclaimed, grabbing onto his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles dick twitched painfully, trying it’s best to harden again. He might be a teenager still, but he did have some sort of refractory period, and he was still very sensitive.

“I don’t think the spell is over, Derek.”

~~~~

Stiles shoved Derek out of the way, racing inside the loft after Derek slid the door open. Too fucking slow. Derek did everything too fucking slow. Stiles was going to burst out of his skin. His entire body itched. Hot pinpricks ran up and down his limbs, spreading over his torso and hips, then back out again. An endless loop of sensation. 

Stiles screamed, yanking at his hair and throwing his head back.

“Stiles!” Derek shouted. “Calm down. Tearing yourself apart isn’t going to fix it,”

Stiles turned towards Derek, laughing, panicked sounding. “No, but apparently neither is us fucking, since we are even worse off than before. Or at least I feel like I am.”

“Yeah, I do too,” Derek admitted. “But I think maybe it will take… uh… repeated attempts.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, giving Derek and incredulous stare. “So, are you suggesting we just keep going at it until it goes away?”

Derek shrugged. 

“But what if it just keeps getting worse and worse each time? Until we burst into flames like those dolls did?” Stiles was having a difficult time seeing straight. Air wasn’t entering his lungs the way it should have been. “Oh god, oh god, I’m actually going to die from fucking. I always thought that would be an awesome way to go, but I am seriously beginning to question my life choices right now, man. I don’t want to fucking die, Derek!”

“Stiles, breathe!” Derek had gripped both of Stiles’ shoulders, squeezing tight. He stopped Stiles from spinning around, and held him still, trying to get him to focus. “You are not going to die. Breathe. We will fix this, like we always do.”

At that last statement, Stiles met Derek’s eyes, the calm oddly-bluish-greenish-hazel color, and felt the air begin to move freely, entering his chest. “Ok. Yeah. So, we’ll what, try it again, and if it gets worse, go see Deaton?”

“Let me call him. Now that we know the side effects, he may be able to tell us if we are doing the right things.” Derek looked at Stiles, waiting for his permission.

“Call him,” Stiles answered, stepping back, letting Derek reach for his phone.

Stiles walked over to the small kitchen, opening the mini-fridge Derek always kept packed with water and sports drinks. He grabbed a bottle of orange flavored drink, and gulped down half of it before he finished standing up straight. He could hear Derek’s voice filtering in from the main room, voice calm and steady. Stiles trusted Derek. He knew that he would do anything in his power to fix what the witch did to them. And not just because it affected Derek too. Stiles knew that if he was the only one who had been spelled, Derek still would do whatever it took to help him. It wasn’t something they spoke about, it was just something he knew. They would take a bullet for each other. And neither of them would think twice about it.

“You up for another round?” Derek asked softly, startling Stiles out of his thoughts.

“Deaton? What did he say? Did he know what this was?” Stiles hoped they weren’t just completely making it up as they went along.

Derek nodded, cheeks flushing. “He spoke with his sister, who’d seen this before with her travels with the alpha pack. She said it would wear off in about a day, but that sexual release would provide relief. It’s basically a crude love spell.” Derek glanced away, uncomfortable.

“So we’re not gonna die?” Stiles asked.

“No.”

“And we can either sit here for the next 24 hours or so, and feel like our skin is going to crawl off, or we can instead come up with about a million different ways to get each other off?” Stiles questioned, grinning like a mad man. Now that the threat of imminent death was gone, the evening was looking up considerably.

Derek laughed. “You can come up with them. It’s still your choice what we do.” 

He held out his arms and Stiles moved into him, sliding his arms around Derek’s neck.

“Hmm, what is next on my list then?” Stiles tilted his head, planting light kisses along Derek’s jawline. Derek moved his hands down to Stiles’ hips, gripping them tightly and pulling him forward. Now that’s an idea…

“Lift me up,” Stiles demanded, biting Derek’s bottom lip, tugging it and letting it go, watching the blood rush back into the soft pink flesh. “Come on, big guy, onto the counter.”

Stiles was lifted into the air, and he grabbed onto Derek’s shoulders for balance, butt hitting the cold surface as he set him down. Stiles grinned and ran his hands down Derek’s chest, stopping at his stomach to bunch the fabric between his fingers, tugging the shirt upwards. Derek raised his arms, letting Stiles pull the fabric up. Stiles tossed the shirt across the room, fingers clasping onto Derek’s belt buckle.

“Undo me too,” Stiles said, sliding the leather through the metal frame. He looked up and met Derek’s eyes, which locked onto his. He could feel his own belt being undone, and pulled through his belt loops, while he did the same to Derek’s. A loud cracking sound snapped him out of his daze, and he looked behind him to see his own belt held taut between Derek’s fists. About a thousand fantasies entered his mind, and he whipped his head back around to perhaps voice a few of them. Derek lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head in question.

“Maybe, later?” Stiles responded, his voice breaking. Derek smiled, all teeth, and dropped the belt on the counter. 

“I’ve seen this thing I wanna try, not sure exactly how it will work though.” Stiles was hesitant now; Derek was older and obviously more experienced. He might think this was a stupid idea. He’d seen it in porn tons of times, so he figured it was probably not too stupid. 

Derek put his hands on Stiles waist, and tugged him forward, so their hips were flush against each other. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Stiles,” Derek said, placing a soft kiss on his lips, breath warm on his skin. 

What a time for Stiles to be tongue-tied. 

Derek leaned over, and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ neck, behind his ear. “If you’re nervous, then show me what you want.”

Show and tell. Stiles could do that. He unbuttoned his fly, and slid the zipper down, and motioned for Derek to do the same. He pulled himself out of his briefs, hissing at the contact; his skin was stretched tight, almost edging on painful, he was so hard. He looked up and saw Derek in the same condition, his foreskin pulled down from his head, the skin red and swollen. Stiles moved forward on the counter, and grabbed Derek around the waist, pulling him tight against him.

Stiles lined his cock up with Derek’s, and wrapped his fist around both of them, silently thanking his genetics for his long fingers. He placed his other hand flat against Derek’s lower back, bracing himself. Derek let out a soft breath and rested his forehead against Stiles’. Stiles started stroking them both together, cringing slightly at the rough friction. He released them and brought his hand up to Derek’s face. Derek lifted his head and turned towards Stiles’ hand, licking a wet line up his palm. 

Stiles wrapped his hand around their cocks and pulled, sighing at the slick sliding movement. Derek dropped his head on Stiles’ shoulder, hands gripping Stiles’ ass to hold himself steady as he bucked his hips, fucking into Stiles’s hand.

The wet drag against Derek’s cock and the tight grip of his own hand was overwhelming. Stiles could feel Derek’s hot breaths on his collarbone; could see his stomach muscles contracting as he thrust his hips, pressing himself into Stiles. The witch’s spell already had Stiles at the edge since they finished their first time in the car. Now he was so close he could see stars; little pulses of light flashing in his periphery.

“Derek, I’m not going to last long at all,” Stiles choked out, pumping his hand faster around them, jerking his own hips forward to match Derek’s. 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groaned, and he wrapped one of his own hands around their dicks, fingers crossing over Stiles’. He squeezed them harder, and Stiles stroked faster. As he thrust his hips forward to meet Derek’s his ass lifted off the counter, and Derek cupped his hand underneath him, picking him up. Derek was practically holding Stiles up one-handed, so Stiles crossed his legs behind Derek’s ass to give himself better leverage as they moved against each other, thrusts becoming frantic. Derek whimpered and shuddered; he sank his fangs into Stiles’ shoulder and came, hot liquid spilling over their hands, running down Stiles’ wrist. Stiles threw his head back, and followed Derek seconds later, digging his nails into Derek’s back. 

They fell into a heap on the floor, Derek’s legs giving out on him. Stiles laughed as their chests pressed together, feeling the sticky fluid spreading. 

“Ugh, shower, gross,” Stiles panted, pulling his arm out that was pinned between them, and wrapping it around Derek to pull him into a tight hug. Derek moved his own trapped arm and pulled Stiles closer from where he had started to slide down off his lap.

“Very good idea,” Derek said, voice muffled from where his mouth was hidden in Stiles’ hair at the base of his neck. “Sorry ‘bout that. Your shoulder.”

Stiles shrugged, feeling a twinge of pain from Derek’s bite, the adrenaline seeping out of his limbs. “Well, it’s not like you can turn me anymore.” Stiles laughed. Was that too soon?

Derek slapped him half-heartedly on the back, grunting in annoyance.

~~~~

“Lavender vanilla shower gel? Really, Derek?” Stiles squirted a healthy amount of the purple soap into the shower puff. “Not really the fragrance I would imagine you buying. I thought you’d be one of those guys that buys the douchey ‘man’ bath products, like Axe or Old Spice or something.”

“I like lavender. It smells good. Natural. That other shit smells terrible, like chemicals and plastic.” Derek scrubbed the shampoo into his hair behind Stiles, suds flying and hitting Stiles in the face.

Stiles carefully wiped the shampoo off his face, narrowly avoiding his eye. “Watch out with that violent shampoo job, buddy. Almost blinded me. And yeah, I guess I understand about the weird smells. Werewolf nose, and all.”

Derek stole the puff from Stiles’ hand mid-scrub. “Hey, give that back, I’m not done,” Stiles said, twisting around to reclaim it and finish cleaning off.

Strong hands grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and turned him back to face the tile wall. “Stay still, trying to wash you,” Derek mumbled. He rubbed the soapy puff in wide circles on Stiles’ back, one hand on his shoulder for balance.

“Oh,” Stiles responded. Washing each other was fun. Stiles was thinking shower time was getting a bit more interesting.

Derek finished with Stiles’ upper back, moving down to his lower back, then over his ass. The water spray hit his back as Derek kneeled down, rubbing the puff over the back of one thigh, then the other. Stiles giggled. Embarrassed, he said, “Ah, that tickles. Not so light, you gotta do it harder or I’m gonna keep sounding like a freakin’ schoolgirl.”

“You said you want it harder?”

Stiles whipped his head around, staring down at Derek kneeling behind him, wearing what could only be called a salacious grin. 

Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah. I did. Gonna give it to me harder, baby?” He meant it to sound cheesy, like a joke. Except he watched Derek’s fangs slide out, eyes flash blue. The erection that came back about two minutes after their little kitchen session throbbed painfully, and he gasped. 

“Didn’t really think you’d be into cliched dirty talk, Derek.” Stiles laughed nervously, not sure of where to go from here. Derek had dropped the puff, and was rubbing his hands up the backs of Stiles’ thighs. He leaned forward and bit Stiles’ ass, dragging his blunt human teeth slowly across the skin. Derek’s hands slid up, thumbs slipping between his cheeks, lightly brushing over his hole. Stiles shuddered and braced his hands against the wall. 

“Tell me what you want, Stiles.” 

“I want you to tell me what you want. This time. Tell me what you want to do to me.” Stiles arms shook as Derek continued rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive skin.

“I want to eat you out and finger you until you come,” Derek said. “Then I want to slide my cock between your thighs and fuck myself off.”

A shock ran up Stiles’ spine, heat spreading throughout his torso. He nodded in response, unable to form any words.

Derek kneaded his ass cheeks, and made a soft contented sound. “If I had known this was how to get you to shut up…”

Derek’s spread Stiles open, and licked a long, slow path from his balls to his tailbone. Stiles keened, throwing his head back and pressing his ass against Derek’s face. Derek swirled the tip of his tongue around the rim of his hole; Stiles moaned in response, loud and wanton. Derek alternated between wide strokes of his tongue and direct circles around his hole, eventually loosening him enough to slide the tip of his tongue inside, making Stiles shout, unintelligible and needy. Stiles’s thighs began to shake, threatening to give out from under him. 

“Derek, please,” Stiles begged, wanting to get his hands on his dick to help with the ache, but afraid if he let go of the wall he’d collapse in a heap. He didn’t know what exactly he was asking for; he just wanted Derek to help ease the feeling building inside him, spiraling out of control.

Derek slid two fingers inside him, and Stiles lost his hold on the wall; he pitched forward and almost hit his head against the tile, but Derek caught him in time, his free arm wrapped around Stiles’ hips. He lowered Stiles down onto his knees, arm moving up to embrace him, hold him in place in front of him as he continued to fuck Stiles with his fingers, slow and methodically. Derek found a place inside Stiles that made his vision go white; he groaned and flung his arms back, trying to find purchase and grab onto Derek, find an anchor. He thrust his hips back as Derek added a third finger, stretching him open as he fucked into him. Derek released his hold around Stiles’ chest and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gripped him tight and pumped slowly, in time with his fingers. As Derek’s thumb circled the head on an upstroke, Stiles came; he felt himself clench around Derek’s fingers and heard him murmuring words of encouragement in his ear as he shook violently, this orgasm much more powerful than the previous two. 

After a few moments to collect himself and remember where he was, Stiles felt Derek shift his legs so his thighs were squeezed together. Derek lifted him up a couple of inches and slid his cock in between Stiles’ legs. Stiles looked down and watched as the head of Derek’s cock appeared in and out of view. Derek grunted as he thrust himself between the soft skin of Stiles’ inner thighs, bumping gently against the underside of his balls. Stiles raised his arms and wrapped them around Derek’s shoulders; he turned his head to the side to find Derek’s mouth and kiss him, sloppy and ungraceful with the angle. 

Derek moaned, low and soft, and tightened his arms around Stiles’ waist. Stiles felt Derek tremble as he came; fluid hotter than the now-tepid shower water dripping down onto his own softening cock. They continued kissing, panting into each others’ mouths. Derek broke from the kiss and ducked his head, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck and under his jawline.

They sat under the cooling water, waiting for their heartbeats to slow and the cocks to harden yet again.

~~~~

Stiles was spread out like a starfish on Derek’s bed, naked except for the damp towel flung over his hips. He figured it wasn’t really worth getting dressed again, since they’d probably be getting off with each other within the next five to ten minutes anyways.

Derek was on the phone again, this time with Scott, and even with human hearing Stiles could hear his best friend shouting at Derek. Apparently Deaton had let slip about the witch’s spell and Scott had called Stiles to check up on him. Stiles didn’t want to answer though, so Derek answered for him. This situation was already crazy enough as it was, he didn’t need Scott worrying over him when it would be over in the next few hours. Stiles loved Scott, but the boy was like a mother hen, always fretting over her chicks. He was just so empathetic it seemed to physically hurt him, and Stiles just didn’t think it was worth the pain.

The past few hours had definitely been the weirdest ones Stiles could remember, and that was saying a fucking lot. Earlier in the car, the idea of having some fun with the broody, stupidly attractive werewolf sounded great. Something to check off his sex bucket list. And with their friendship developing the way it was, Stiles assumed they could do something like this and it wouldn’t change anything. They were both comfortable with each other, often exchanging casual touches, not afraid to get in each other’s personal space. Stiles had thought numerous times (usually when he was indulging in a little personal Stiles time) that Derek would make a good fuck-buddy. The guy clearly had some serious relationship drama in his past, and Stiles couldn’t help but think maybe that Derek just needed to be able to let off a little steam once in awhile, no strings attached. Which Stiles would be more than happy to assist with.

Only now… Now after what felt like a full night of learning more than he could have ever realized about Derek’s sexual talents, Stiles wasn’t so sure anymore. His head was spinning and it wasn’t because he had come so much in the past few hours that he felt like he was literally tapped out. When Stiles thought about Derek and what he would be like during sex, he always saw him as some sort of dominant asshole-ish kind of guy. The type that would fuck you hard, and be a bit careless about it, almost indifferent. Leave afterwards without cuddling. Fun while it was happening, but maybe made you feel a little shitty afterwards when you were alone. Although Stiles never thought he would feel shitty about himself, because it’s not like Derek was a stranger, and he knew he cared about Stiles. He just thought the sex thing would be something they could do and then go about their day, picking right back up where they left off.

What Stiles couldn’t get out of his mind right now was all of the affectionate moments. The nuzzling, and kissing. The embraces and caresses; the way Derek sounded when Stiles touched him, like he was wounded and Stiles’ hands healed him. Not to mention the fact that even though he could have just taken charge completely and told Stiles what to do, Derek insisted every single time that what they did would be Stiles’ choice. And Stiles knew that if during any of this, if he had asked Derek to stop he would have done so immediately, without question. Derek was just so…

Loving.

Or at least it seemed like it. Like he was treating Stiles the way he would treat any lover that he cared for. Like they were making love here and not fucking. Not just burning off some stupid ass spell that a second-rate witch decided she would fling at them. And these thoughts, these were the ones that Stiles was having trouble understanding. They just were not fitting into his headcannon of what he expected Derek to be like. And people weren’t supposed to do that. Especially not ones Stiles thought he knew most everything there was to know about. 

The bed dipped at Stiles’ side, and he snapped out of his thoughts to see Derek hunched over next to him, Stiles’ phone at his ear.

“Like I said before, this will wear off. You don’t need to do anything about it, what I need you to do is track the witch down and chase her out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek sighed, obviously frustrated with whatever Scott was protesting on the phone. Stiles lifted his hand and patted Derek’s bare back in sympathy. 

“Tell Scott that he seriously doesn’t want to come within, like, 100 feet of your loft right now,” Stiles said, knowing Scott could hear him just fine. “He would just be hit with a stink wave of jizz and sweat. And lavender vanilla body wash.”

Derek snorted, his shoulders shaking in laughter. Stiles heard even louder shouts coming out of the earpiece of the phone. Maybe if he grossed Scott out enough, he wouldn’t get himself involved in their situation here and just go and handle the witch.

Scott must have finally agreed to leave them alone and track down the witch, because Derek set the phone on the nightstand a few moments later and twisted around to look down at Stiles on the bed. Derek raised his eyebrows in question, eyes shifting down to Stiles’ towel and back up to his face.

“What?” Stiles asked, “it’s not like we aren’t gonna be naked in a few, right? Why bother? Plus, I’m not sure if I would really fit into any of your clothes. I’d end up looking like a sad clothes hanger.”

Derek smiled close-lipped and shut his eyes. He had put on a pair of faded blue running shorts after they got out of the shower. Stiles didn’t really want to admit he was upset that Derek had covered up again.

“Is it back?” Stiles’ hard-on had returned about the time they finished toweling off, shivering after coming down from his orgasm and from the cooling water in the shower. 

“It’s been back for a while,” Derek said as he laid down next to Stiles, curling against his side and resting his head in the crook of Stiles’ arm. “Which made for an uncomfortable conversation with Scott, if I’m being very honest.”

Stiles laughed, loud in the quiet of the loft. “Oh yeah, I guess you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager and get awkward random boners all the time.”

Derek was silent for a moment, his body like a furnace pressed to Stiles’ side. He took a deep breath, “There is a lot about being a teenager that I try to forget.”

Shit. Of course, Stiles had to put his foot in his mouth. He was an expert at that by now. “I’m sorry, Derek, you know what I…”

“It’s fine, Stiles.”

Stiles curled his arm around Derek’s shoulder and placed his hand on top of his head, rubbing softly at his hair, trying to apologize without opening his mouth. Derek looked up and met his eyes, “It’s really ok. It’s just,” he paused, pressing his lips together, “today has just been really intense.”

“Yeah.” Stiles knew exactly what Derek meant, even though he wasn’t sure if Derek was thinking what Stiles was. He hoped he was.

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asked, breath hitching.

“Yeah.”

Stiles closed his eyes as Derek leaned in, soft lips pressing, the smell of lavender soap and mint shampoo surrounding him. Derek tilted his head and licked Stiles’ bottom lip, and he opened his mouth for him, sucking gently on Derek’s tongue. Stiles pushed up and rolled on top of Derek, towel falling between them, straddling Derek’s hips. Their kiss grew sloppy, lips and tongues mixing; Stiles pressing the heels of his hands against Derek’s chest, holding himself steady. Derek ran his hands down Stiles’ back and squeezed his ass, grinding up into him, pressing his erection into Stiles’. The fabric of the Derek’s shorts was a rough contrast against his tender naked skin.

Stiles sat up. Derek’s lips were reddened, wet with saliva and open in invitation. Derek’s eyes moved all over Stiles’ face, a look of worry in them, maybe thinking Stiles wanted to stop. That he’d finally had enough. Even though the thought of stopping now, when so many things were becoming clearer to Stiles, so many things that he had set aside but were now coming together, he couldn’t stop now. Didn’t think he’d ever want to stop.

“Can I fuck you?” Stiles asked.

Derek closed his mouth, jaw muscle moving as he nodded. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Stiles blinked, not sure he was expecting that answer. The idea of having Derek beneath him - this powerful, magnificent creature, who could tear him apart if he wanted, but instead chose to give this to him; this idea made the strength go out of his limbs, elbows buckling. Stiles rolled over, flung the towel onto the floor. 

“Do you have anything? Oh my god, do werewolves need to use condoms? I never even thought about that. It’s not like I could get you pregnant or anything.” Stiles babbled, adrenaline making him unable to shut up. 

Derek pressed a small plastic bottle into one of Stiles’ flailing hands. “I can’t catch or transmit any diseases, so it’s up to you.” He took his shorts off, tossing them off the side of the bed.

“Then, no. I’d rather feel all of you, if that’s ok?”

Derek surged forward, wrapping a hand around Stiles’ neck and pressing a hard kiss to Stiles’ lips. Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s shoulders and pressed, falling on top of his chest as Derek laid back onto the bed. Stiles placed the bottle next to him and reached down to find the back of Derek’s right knee, mouth moving to run over Derek’s chin and jaw. Derek tipped his head back, exposing his throat, moaning softly. Stiles raised Derek’s leg, bending it at the knee, up to his chest. He ran his hand down the back of his Derek’s thigh, fingers brushing through the soft hair on his leg, reaching his ass. He cupped his hand underneath him and lifted, readjusting him slightly so Stiles was at a better angle to prep him.

Stiles sat up, grabbing for the bottle; he looked down at Derek as he popped the plastic cap, found Derek’s eyes wide, his mouth open slightly, breathing heavily. 

“How many fingers…?” Stiles wondered out loud, not exactly sure what to do with himself now that he was here. 

Derek shrugged, a small movement; he bit his bottom lip, worried at it. “Not sure. Two, maybe three?”

Stiles turned the bottle upside down and squeezed, the clear viscous gel streaming onto his fingers, cold and sticky. “Well, how many do you normally need?” If he focused on each step, he could do this. If he thought about what would happen too far in advance, his mind spun away from him.

“I don’t… I’ve never done this before.”

“What?” Stiles sputtered out, completely shocked. “But, you’re not a virgin!”

Derek somehow still managed to pull off his famous eye roll, even as he was completely naked, leg in the air, cock stiff and dripping against his stomach. “No, Stiles, I’m not a virgin. I’ve just never had someone’s dick in my ass before.”

“Oh,” Stiles responded. He smiled, fumbling to catch the lube dripping from his fingers onto Derek’s hip. Winking at him, he said, “But you’re about to.”

“If you say anything like that ever again, I’m kicking you out of the loft and you can fix out your own fucking hard-on by yourself.” It really was quite impressive how terrifying Derek could look even at a time like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, leaning over to kiss Derek. “Still trying to get used to this whole dirty talk thing.” 

“I think you need quite a bit of prac…” Derek let out a low groan as Stiles slipped one finger inside him. Derek was tight and hot around him. He moved his finger slowly, testing to see his response. Derek shifted his hips, moving against the push and pull of Stiles’ hand, so he sped up. Stiles added another finger, twisting them a bit to see what Derek would do. He looked up and Derek; his head was thrown back again, neck bared, and his hands were fisted in the sheets. Stiles thrust in faster, tried experimentally hooking his fingers up, trying to find the spot he was able to find on himself sometimes.

“Fuck,” Derek gasped out, extending the vowels out, as he bucked his hips. 

“You like that, big guy?” Stiles asked. The rush he got from making Derek come apart like this at his touch was intoxicating. Stiles could easily get addicted. He added a third finger, thrusting them faster, occasionally bending his fingers again to see Derek’s reaction. Stiles hummed, and licked up the side of Derek’s neck. “Let me hear you howl, big bad wolf.” 

Stiles laughed at himself, maybe he did need practice. Derek however, seemed to think what he was saying was pretty damn good; the blood dripping down his chin after he pierced his lip with his fangs was proof enough.

“Stiles, please,” Derek grunted out. 

“Tell me what you want, Derek. I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, just fuck me, Stiles. Please.”

Stiles pulled his fingers out; he groped around the sheets for the lube, fumbling around with it a few times because of his slick fingers. He knelt in front of Derek, sneaking looks at his face as he slicked his cock up with the gel. Derek’s eyes were half closed; his arms raised above his head, clutching the pillow, claws out and ripping holes in the pillowcase. Stiles swore, and wrapped his arm around Derek’s leg, pulling him closer so he could line himself up. He slid in slowly, just past the first ring of muscle, watching Derek’s face. The heat was incredible, he was surrounded by it, and it seemed to engulf him, light his entire body on fire. Stiles fell forward, catching himself with his hand on Derek’s shoulder. He was shaking, digging his nails into Derek’s skin; he felt his hips press flush against Derek’s ass. Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against Derek’s, breathing into his mouth, heart skipping in his chest. Derek lowered one of his hands and grabbed onto Stiles’ ass, pulling him forward. Stiles began to move; slow thrusts at first. He mouthed at Derek’s jaw and neck, felt the vibrations on his lips as Derek moaned. He snapped his hips, twice in succession, and Derek shouted. Stiles sat up, and wrapped his other arm around Derek’s leg. He thrust faster now, trying to get deeper, trying to get that sound to fall from Derek’s lips again. Derek wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it in time with Stiles thrusts. Stiles thought he might be close from the way he was twitching, dripping over his fingers. He wasn’t ready for this to end; he knew if Derek came Stiles would be very close behind him.

Stiles pulled out and Derek whined at the loss. He let Stiles flip him over and pull him up by his hips, spreading his knees open so his ass was thrust into the air, back arched. Stiles touched fingertips to his triskelion tattoo; he dragged his hand down Derek’s spine and watched him shiver, goosebumps appearing along his flesh. Stiles leaned over his back, and guided himself inside Derek; he groaned at the new angle. 

He moved slow again, and bit down into the muscle of Derek’s shoulder. He held onto him with his teeth, rolled his hips. Derek shoved back at him with his hips, hard enough that Stiles would probably have twin bruises in the morning. Derek wrapped his fist around himself again, and Stiles smacked it away. Not yet.

Stiles sat up and gripped onto Derek’s hips, resettled his knees to ensure he had enough leverage. He fucked into Derek hard, the sound of skin smacking together like a whip crack in the loft. Derek reached a hand up to brace himself against the headboard. Stiles went faster, listening to Derek’s moan at every thrust. He threw his head back, staring at the high ceiling, breathing heavily and feeling the sweat start to run down his back. Stiles was close; he stopped his fast pace and ground his hips against Derek’s, staying deep inside of him. He reached around, bending over and wrapped his fingers around Derek’s cock. He tugged hard, rubbed his thumb over the head as his fingers slid a tight ring up and down the shaft.

Derek cursed loudly, his head shoved into the pillow, voice muffled. 

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles said, leaning over his back, placing a kiss onto his tattoo. “Let me hear you. I wanna hear you fucking fall apart.”

Derek shuddered under Stiles. He lifted his head and yelled, curses and unintelligible sounds; his asshole contracted around Stiles’ cock, and it sent Stiles over the edge. Stiles wrapped his arms tight around Derek as his orgasm shot through him. Shaking, he slowed his thrusts; Derek’s legs collapsed under him and he slid down until he was flat on the bed, Stiles dropping on top of him.

They stayed like that for a while. Stiles trying to catch his breath, panting in Derek’s ear, mumbling words to him that he wasn’t sure he’d remember later.

~~~~

Stiles woke to the light coming through the large window at the back of the loft. He sat up, muscles stiff and aching. He shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes, rubbing them roughly, trying to wake up. An arm snaked around his waist, and he removed his hands; he looked down to see Derek’s face tucked against his hip. Stiles place his hand on top of Derek’s head, fingers combing through his soft hair. Derek hummed and shifted, rubbing the top of his head on Stiles’ thigh. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Stiles said, laughing softly. Derek pulled back the arm wrapped around his waist and placed his hand over Stiles’ crotch. 

“Uh…” Stiles stammered out.

Derek sat up, hair sticking up everywhere, mouth soft with sleep. “You don’t have one either.”

Stiles looked down at his lap. To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about it since he woke. And if he was being very honest (which was kinda scary) he was more than a little upset that the spell seemed to have finally worn off.

“I guess it wore off,” Stiles said, frowning. 

Derek touched Stiles’ cheek, turned him to face him. “You know we don’t need a spell to keep doing this, Stiles.” He placed a chaste kiss on Stiles’ lips, and Stiles shivered. 

“You mean like, friends with benefits or something?” Stiles knew that was probably all Derek meant; he didn’t think that Derek was having the crisis that Stiles had the night before, thinking about how all of this made him feel, made him reevaluate the relationship that had been developing between them. 

The corners of Derek’s mouth turned down, and he took his hand off Stiles’ face. “If that’s what you want, I can do that.”

Derek moved away, untangling himself from the mess of the bed sheets. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and Stiles caught him by the shoulder, pulling him back.

“No,” Stiles protested. “That’s not all I want. But I can’t sit here anymore feeling like a freaking crazy person because I don’t know what you’re feeling, if you’re just thinking that this is just sex, and that’s all you want, then fine, that’s what I’ll take, but if you want more, then tell me, and please say something and make me stop rambling, ok?”

Derek smiled, all white teeth. “Idiot. Why wouldn’t I want more?”

“Asshole,” Stiles breathed out, slapping Derek on the arm. “I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Want me to call Scott and have him bring the witch over to the loft?”

“I think we should be able to handle this ourselves. But maybe we should send her a gift or something…”

~~~~

Later, Scott came over to pick up the magic powder from Deaton. He got one look at Stiles deepthroating Derek as he sat on the couch, grabbed the bottle, and ran out of the loft screaming his head off.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](http://aeneapsych.tumblr.com) :D


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